OK, well THAT'S over!

I dread holidays down here. They simply pale in comparison to having family around. But we have friends here, and sunshine, so I'll stop kvetching and relate the events.

The 23rd was my son's birthday at home, the night I always served lasagna and we did the family gift thing. So I was teary all day. But I "cooked " a big turkey breast with mashed potatoes, gravy, and broccoli. I say "cooked" because it turns out it was already cooked, which I didn't know because the label was in Spanish. Christmas Eve was drinks and snacks at the clubhouse. We had the gift swap thing, where you can pick a wrapped gift or steal someone else's. We scored a huge bottle of sparkling Santa Claus wine, and a pottery luminaria (candle holder). And Christmas morning Ron and I exchanged gifts: he bought me a new sink for my yet-to-be-built new bathroom, a gorgeous Mexican one. I only got him a coffee mug with Ella's photo on it: we'd already got each other the new stove and weren't supposed to spend much but he cheated.

Christmas dinner at the clubhouse was terrific! Tons-O-food, 50+ diners, and quite jolly. And they made gravy!

Then I got sick: shaking chills, fatigue, achy. Lasted til today. Better now.

So it's over and I intend to try to shake this depressed funk I've been in. There's a minus tide shortly and we're going to the beach!

The BEST fishing day ever!

Yesterday we went fishing with neighbors Don and Joyce  on their 23 foot Seaswirl Striper boat. I never in my dreams thought I'd experience the sort of services and luxuries that come with THIS sort of boat-ownership. The boat storage place in Kino is called Finisterra ("land's end"). It's a walled, locked compound with chain link "cells" for the boats. You drive in and park the truck. You carry your stuff over to your cell, and load it. Requires a ladder to board! You call Rafael on the radio when you're ready, and he comes over on his tractor and hooks you up. He tows you to the ramp and backs you in. You call Rescue One on the radio and announce you're going out, how many on board, and when you expect to be back. Then you go.

I have a non-sea stomach, and used to use Scopolamine patches, but they took them off the market. Any up/down motion will do it. Yesterday was chosen (by me) because the Buoyweather website said ZERO wind, an extreme rarity here. And the sea was like glass, with air temp around 65 when we left, up to mid 70s late by noon. Perfect.

We went toward the southern tip of Tiburon island but had to stop a couple of times to troll big jigs through "bait balls" (anchovy-type schools of fish, frenzied from some predator in their vicinity). Didn't catch any predators, though, which they wanted to cut up for bait. (I have most of a giant squid taking up 1/2 my freezer JUST for that purpose, but we forgot to bring it...) So we turned south on the far side of Turner island and trolled up and down the west side of that a few times. No strikes. Same thing on the south side of Turner, although we saw seals fishing, and some birds diving, but nada for us. So Don and Ron decided to jig for bottom fish. They started at Dead Man's Rock and drifted west, from 80 to 150 feet depths. The first drift they caught the most, one right after another, mostly reef bass (good eatin') . Some of the odder-looking fish were released, either had poisonous spines or too bony. When the strikes stopped, Don would drive back and start over, maybe 8 passes. Never did need bait.

So now it's 12:45 and we're hungry, so we head back. Took 30 minutes at 30 mph, so I figure it was about 15 miles. Math's my weakest link, I worked on that equation the whole way back.

Don radioed Raphael when we got near the ramp, but another boat was waiting, so we sat there and watched the locals fishing, picnicking, playing in the water. GORGEOUS day for it. After about 30 minutes, here comes Raphael with the trailer, backs down the ramp, and Don drives up onto the trailer. Don calls Rescue One and says we're back.  Raphael tows us to the gas pump at the marina to refuel, and we hand the fish bucket to the boys who clean the fish while we refuel and get pushed back into the cell. The whole boat gets hosed down by Ron and Don while Joyce and I go potty and TRY to go see the new puppies in the "guard dog" fenced corner, but the big dogs didn't want us to. The fish-cleaner-boys get tipped, Raphael gets paid, and we're off to lunch: fish tacos and cold beer.

I only had a mild queasiness part of the day, no actual nausea, and it ruined NOTHING. An absolutely perfect day. Here are some pictures:

This is LIKE their boat, I neglected to take a photo of theirs.

Map of Trip area: Click on the blue balloons.

Don at left, Joyce above

Dead Man's Rock (with Cormorants. They grunt.) Turner's Island in background.

Southern tip of Turner's Island. Those are pelicans.

Cactus Island, with Tiburon at far left rear.

Ron jigging for bottom fish. Turner Island in background.

Got one.

Reef Bass.

They have an air "bladder" that inflates when you pull them up from so deep, sometimes it's sticking out of their mouths like big thick tongues.

Left: Dunno what it's called. Pretty, though.

Center: Coral Hawkfish

Right: Sculpin, poison fin spikes

We said we'd be done when the bucket got full. That 3rd photo has a Triggerfish, good eatin'.

Southern end of Tiburon Island.

Southern end of Turner Island, facing west. The sun, colors, sky were amazing.

There was a porta-potty in the cabin, but I didn't want to use it because we'd have to dump it later. So I drank nothing. Maybe my stomach would have been fine if I'd eaten before, but maybe worse. It wasn't bad at all, though. And they made fun of me, of course, because apparently nobody's ever seen a calmer sea than yesterday.

So a gazillion Thank-Yous to Don and Joyce for sharing their beautiful boat with us yesterday. I'll never forget it!

Reflections On Turning 57

1. I look exactly like my mother. And she's 83.

2. I'm losing my reserve and inhibition. I don't care as much if my hair is unkempt or my stomach sticks out.
3. I'm less tolerant of idiots. Very dismissive lately.
4. I crave solitude more and more.
5. I eat less but weigh the same. I'll bet I don't average 1500 calories a day and only lose weight when I don't eat at all for a couple of days.
6. I'm becoming a tightwad. I worked too hard for that money.
7. I think about old friends all the time. Look up people on the internet. Try to make contact again, sometimes after a decade or two. What's up with THAT?
8. I no longer fear getting old. There are a few old people here (old is over 80) at the RV park, and they look happy. And respected...
9. I still hate that you have to let your kids and grandkids learn from their own mistakes. Dumb rule.
10. I listen more. To wind, to birds, to the ocean, to kids playing.

Just this year, I've begun to count my blessings instead of wishing for something more. I feel I'm where I was meant to be (Kino, our casita) and more days than not am utterly content to be where I am and doing what I'm doing: usually nothing. I think I'm less distressed at missing the grandkids so much, in that when we DO return in the spring, it will feel like I can give them the best part of me BECAUSE of my time here.

I didn't know what tough WAS!

It's just the two of us, so our pets are a big focus in our lives. Feeding, exercising, cleaning up after, checking on their whereabouts, and giving them love all contribute to our measuring of contentment. When Ella got sick, it was rough. Hearing the "C" diagnosis, and making the decision to euthanize her was a white-hot stab in the heart. And the actual procedure, ensuing drive home, and burial were absolute nightmares. But the worst was yet to come: living without Ella.

It's still early days, and I look for her 50 times a day. After realizing I had ZERO printed photographs of her, I remedied that and immediately felt a small burden lift. I added solar lights next to her grave, and felt another small burden lift. I'm compelled to stand at her grave and stroke the ironwood, talking to her. And it helps, a little. So does rum. And I hope nobody's watching.

The first two days, I hated coming home because Ella wasn't there. Then, somehow, it shifted, and now I hate to leave because Ella's here. Don't know how I'll be able to bear leaving here for Minnesota in the spring. Maybe I'll set up a web cam...

I realize there are "non-pet" people who may read this and think "Oy!" but this is my reality. I think some of them may BE non-pet people because they once had to endure this, and I sure get THAT. No more pets for me.

Ella Durham 2001 - 2009

Ella had cancer and was put to sleep 12/05/09 as Ron and I held her. She's buried in front of our yard with a gnarled, black, twisted ironwood tree marker and her bandanna tied around it. Her bowls, some Milk-Bones, and her blankie are with her, and she's wearing her collar and leash for her eternal walk. Our hearts are broken, but she doesn't hurt anymore.

Ella's last photograph

Flapping lips

"Her" futon

Loved the grandbabies

She endured all their love!

Our mighty huntress.

The pain starts showing in her eyes.

Ella's now in full view of her beloved ocean forever.

Tough week in Paradise

First was Thanksgiving without family OR gravy. Then our dog got sick. Wouldn't eat or drink. Mexican vet said pneumonia. Antibiotic shots, and she rallied a wee bit. Has eaten 2 cans of dog food and a can of cat food in 7 days. VERY weak. Going back to the vet today. Heavy hearts.

Did have a nice day yesterday despite Ella's condition. Finished my wreath:

Made with cacti skeleton base, shells, bones, an old Seri rope, and a grisly coyote skull.

We sat on the roof for a while late afternoon, even Ella, surveying our domain. This one is from my lounger.

And here's Ron, trying to talk Ella into getting better.

And me with my Gin and Tonic

Later we sat on the front porch a while. Yes, we sit on the roof, move to the porch, sometimes go sit on the RV pad. After dark, we go sit on the couch. It's a busy life, all that moving around. Here's Ron sitting on the porch, Rocky and I sitting on the porch, and RV park manager Eddie and Ron sitting on the porch.

We ate grilled shrimp and Caesar salad for dinner, watched Survivor, blahblah. Just kept going through the motions, with this huge cloud of the dog's illness looming over all of it. It was, IS consuming.